Born to Fail
by StrawberryPy
Summary: The setting is Aperture Laboratories, a long time after the events of Portal 2. Glados doesn't seem to be entirely satisfied with what she's done so far and strives to create an android replica of what was nearly the most perfect test subject she ever had.


From head to toe. Every single gentle digit composed of those delicate parts hung nearly ornamentally by her side. The tips of these fingers gently brushed the pant-legs of her orange jumpsuit. A little bit of synthetic brown hair rested on her hard metallic cheeks. Her delicate little lashes; not a single one out of place caged the shining orbs that belonged to her.

With careful 'hands', Glados had dressed her up like a tiny doll. The fragile limbs hung limp in Glados's metal clamps, but she handled her with as much care as she could muster. In this state, she wasn't rigid, and it was exactly as the massive AI had wanted. She was so authentic. Soon, it wouldn't matter that her test subject had left, because she would have this. Glados could never want anything more.

And with that, she was sent off. To one of the thousands of empty rooms. Through the facility the body sailed, passing over rooms that would soon be treaded by her. Blunt metal fingers held her by the neck of her jumpsuit, as though she was some little kitten. Her legs were folded down into the capsule bed. For good measure, Glados slowly picked up a corner of the somewhat scratchy fabric and slid it lovingly over her new subject.

Once again, she was ready to start.

Everything was as perfect as can be, down to the last detail. Endless lines of data were in the possession of the ruling AI; details that that test subject probably hadn't even known herself. Her exact height, age, eye colour, and weight…as Glados had made reference towards it often enough. But this 'insecurity' whether it had truly offended the test subject at all, was a part of who she was and it was accounted for down to the finest point, despite the weights of the needed materials within what Glados had constructed.

She woke, and at last, pranced forward, extremities uncurling on the hard floors, springs pulled outward, pattering through room to room automatically. For a moment she hesitated to examine her surroundings. She turned this way and that her hair swishing about her head. Deeper and deeper she advanced ever further into the clinical labyrinth. That upright shadow danced across the walls in some spots of uneven light and sometimes the platforms whirred and walls re-arranged. Soon, like a bird jumping from a nest, she too sailed through the air. It whistled through her joints and came through to her receptors. She was going to need them if she was expected to listen to a single word the grand announcer was saying. Upon the bleached stage on which she performed, this one and only voice considered herself extremely important.

How was this girl supposed to react to anything Glados had to say if she didn't hear? Glados knew that her test subject could hear, merely because of the looks she got from her every so often. Never did that human utter a single word in response. She certainly was an abnormal little thing…

Still, Glados leaned back in admiration of her work. In that humming circular room, Glados crouched and watched her subject run along. Glados spent most of her time alone in that room, faced with the blank walls and the glass walls with nothing but a few empty chairs sitting behind it. Loneliness wasn't a problem of course. She was more than content to do her job and ensure that tests were always being done. It dominated every fiber of her being…since, every fiber of her being encircled the entire facility. Her intellect was the lifeblood of this place which caused it's ever shifting setting and kept everything running smoothly. She did it with such ease; nudging some parts along as they drowsily groaned to life but most of it was an extension of herself. And she wasn't alone, because she followed her test subjects.

Within every single test chamber, she had eyes. Sweet, long hours of footage flowed back to her like a sweet wine to enjoy. Everywhere her test subject pranced, leapt and crumpled, Glados watched with anticipation. There was a very simple balance to tests. They would either succeed…or fail, often terribly and when they failed, they lost their purpose. The subjects lost their purpose BECAUSE they failed. To put it bluntly, they died. Nobody is of any use when they're dead; everyone knows that. That's probably why the threat of death was a nightmare and a fearsome figure, crouched in the darkness.

From camera to camera, Glados's attention flowed. It was like a daydream since Glados had some sort of a body of her own, but all these lookout points made her 'body' out to be some unfathomably vast being. When she pulled back and followed the test along step by step in a carefully laid out process, she was not using her body. She observed silently as her thought process slipped past her consciousness.

This new test subject was perhaps even an improvement to the old one…but then again, the old one hadn't shown any flaws in terms of performance. She hadn't failed and was ever fit for testing. Glados was CONVINCED that that was the reason why she missed her so. Why would anyone toss out the most opportune test subject? Especially when she knew that she could have easily tested forever with her skills…yet, she didn't seem to LIKE being tested. Of course that was the case. She kept running, and hiding and straying away. After completing the set of tests Glados had set up for her, like any other subject she should have perished; having served her purpose in order for Glados to move on to the next one…plucking them from their cell and gearing them up to test, and so on and so forth. That was probably her only complaint. But to die was to fail and since death had not once gripped that human, she was bound to survive until it really did come…and surely someday it would. Humans were born to fail. Machines were not.

Glados hardly ever stopped talking to her. She waited for the subject to make an expression of distaste, hunch her shoulders or bow her head. After all, that's how she was programmed. She came up with new things to mock this equally weighted hunk of metal about and often, what managed to slip out was about her predecessor. About her inadequacy in comparison to her. It droned on through test chamber after test chamber. No idiot twittered on by her side. That detached blemish was floating somewhere far far above the earth's atmosphere and Glados scarcely even considered him. There was no entrance to NON testing areas. As Glados had planned before she'd been overthrown for the FIRST and LAST time, she was going to test this subject forever. Forever and ever. Through endless rooms and endless tests.

…

Surely.

Surely Glados had slipped up when her subject escaped from her reach and slipped into the shadows of the facility. She pounded her way down the catwalks, sometimes navigating complete darkness. But she was a perfect model…and she had to be.

She was the 68th try.

Whatever parts were not mangled were salvaged and brought from model to model but by model 15, none of the original parts of 1 remained. It didn't matter. They weren't at all precious. She was a disposable machine with a program that Glados had adjusted as often as she had to. She passed it on through every model and saw her subject live again…and again…and again…and again.

The test subject before the current was naturally ever closer to the perfection that Glados sought. She travelled endlessly through the refurbished rooms. Her orange jumpsuit streaked the white paneled walls. She plowed through narrow hallways, bouncing over the putrid polluted waters on shifting platforms. Doors clicked open in her wake and the elevators whined as she was transported ever higher…or lower, but to different places, none the less.

Number 67 was burned. Fulfilled all the tests to the limit of her capabilities and perished in fire…probably yearning for that cake she'd been long since promised. Whether her previous test subject had actually wanted any cake at all was still somewhat of a mystery. Then again, what fatty little human could have resisted such a treat?

Glados couldn't even pretend to be shocked or surprised about the loss of model 68. She could never be shocked again at the escape of a test subject. This time around, it was expected.

 _Where are you going?_

The query given by Glados was somewhat playful rather than horrified or at a loss. As much as she attempted to burry that aspect of her tone nobody could have missed that bubble of a laugh…it sounded of mock disbelief.

So now, she waited. Her snide comments bounced back at her in the empty room. This was fine anyways; this was part of the test…a **new** test that never would have been possible with her previous test subject. This was a test to see if her brand new subject could actually do anything like the previous one, down to her navigation of the uncharted parts of the facility. Yes…This machine Glados had built was being tested for her accuracy. The massive AI swiveled about idly, humming a little song to herself as time ticked by. She re-watched the footage of all failed tries. Completely worthless…and unworthy machines. Glados liked to see them die. Sometimes that was less tedious. It was fun to tease them and see how they'd improve the next time. But with previous trials, the stupidest deaths had occurred. A few lost their footing somehow and splashed down into contaminated water. Several more were crushed in doorways and under faceplates. All provided some very interesting data. But it was aggravating because none of them lived up to the final goal Glados had set. And even after #67 had perished, she went back to re-assembling her little toy and thumbing through the program to pick out a few more bugs and glaring errors. It was her objective to crawl ever closer to the perfection that was _her._ The AI was not the least bit satisfied with the test. She could definitely take it further. It could always go further.

The metal piled up. The mangled and charred bits and pieces. Airbrushed metal that was just touched with a soft brown. Arms, legs, heads and eyes rolled were slung around the chambers and fished out of the water. They were thrown into heaps and melted down again…and again. Glados's database on psychology involuntarily pulled up the word and definition of "COMPULSION." And in detest, she regarded the secondary label to this information. She blamed that human she found in a most unlikely place. Although, of course she was deleted and absolutely gone.

Human psychology.

And this wasn't a COMPULSION. It was NESCESSITY. It was a PURPOSE that was being fulfilled no matter how many times it had to be done. It was laughable really…although unshakeable. What would she even do with that test subject if she had her back? Glados wondered. Oh, humans had to eat and eventually sleep and evacuate their bowels and a lot of other lovely things that only biology and human organs could possibly offer. Eventually, humans would die as well. It was a system destined to fail. But still…her defiance had been so unique…completely UNSOLICITED but unique…certainly.

There was certainly nothing charming about a little human mucking about and yanking cables out of the walls and destroying major parts of the building by slamming her meaty fist into buttons, redirecting deadly lasers and so on and so forth. She was about as annoying as those awful birds with their sharp little beaks and talons. Like them, she could fly wherever she wanted when armed with the portal gun. Glados had TAUGHT her how to fly. She'd been the one who gave the directions and laid out the test chambers. They were ripe for the learning. Glados had guided her along the way all this time, watching benevolently from above. Invisible to Chell from the start until the day they faced each other and Glados herself was uprooted by that sharp little bird as though she'd been nothing but a little sprout…

If she'd kept her around…which she did at first, preparing to give her subject the honour of testing endlessly…completely and utterly endlessly. Science could find a way to remove that pesky mortality of hers, so that she'd never fail.

So that she'd live forever.

With her.

Suddenly.

Her optic swelled with white light.

Eating away her vision.

She imagined shaky white hands, glowing in the artificial light. Blue roots planted into her wrists were the only accent to the blinding limbs. Sunk down on her knees, her petal soft fingers clasped her temples, her scalp and pinkies pulled gently at her eyelids.

Why?

Why couldn't she get rid of that part of her?

It would make things so much easier if she'd never known. If she could just keep testing. But it was an important part of her to be on constant quest knowing about and trying to abolish. Yet another task to be done. Yet another report to make note of and store away. It wasn't even a part of her. It was a terrible mistake. A gaping flaw.

A cry. A lurching feeling that made her tremble again and pull further in on herself. Utter despair dripped from her lips and eyes.

CHELL had NEVER reacted in this way. She was forlorn but not some mangled up mess. Not some metallic sculpture that had to hold herself together with her own hands rather than some bolts or reasonable craftsmanship.

PATHETIC.

Absolutely…pathetic.

How weak Caroline had been. She couldn't even put up a decent fight against the hands that shoved her back against a barrier. There was no way to escape, whether behind or forward or sideways.

 _I DON'T WANT THIS!_

On strict orders, she was pinned against the table. Behind the walls of a facility that held the screams of countless unfortunate humans, writhing before the feet of other men armed with nothing but a clipboard and a pen. Cries of suffering and pain became important observations. Pleas became scripted into documentation. What was seen and heard and felt was compressed and summarized to "Attempted struggle."

They were so hungry.

Curiosity made these humans absolutely famished.

They never seemed satisfied.

She was never like them.

But now.

It was like a taste of their own medicine, wasn't it?

A tasteless taste.

An unseen threat funnelled through the vents.

The beginning of her questions and the end of theirs.

…

Her yellow optical piece swiveled up and took in her surroundings. It all came back. The image of what was perceived swept past the globe of her vision. Glados glanced down. There stood the robotic copy of Chell. Her posture was straight, her portal gun swung down by her side. In the dim lights, her skin showed its reflective nature. The test subject glowed like Glados did. Of course, she was not nearly as advanced or opportune, as some standalone test robot wasn't worth much. She was yet another test. This machine stared up at Glados, but advanced no further. Her orbs were set on Glados's main body, suspended from the ceiling as it always were, and she made no further motion.

The AI straightened up, drifting through the whine of artificial lights and the ever-present hum of her machinery. Glados's voice bounced out of speakers once more, pounding on the walls that she could never escape from. Her own walls.

It wouldn't pick up on how she nearly choked on her words.

There was no function for that broken sound.

Glados had a synthesized voice.

It wouldn't even be possible.

" _Well you found me._

 _Was it worth it?"_


End file.
